


Dream Angus

by RedHatMeg



Category: Disney Duck Universe
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Scottish lullaby throughout the life of Scrooge McDuck, mentions of Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, mentions of Scottish history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 15:39:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12844263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHatMeg/pseuds/RedHatMeg
Summary: "You've come here to get rich and make a name of yourself. The thing about America is that it can make people forget about their roots. Just keep that in mind, lad."





	Dream Angus

_Glasgow, 1877_

“Come on, kids. Time to sleep.” Downy McDuck called after her elder children, Scrooge and Mathilda. She was holding her youngest, Hortense, in her arms.

“I don’t want to sleep!” Scrooge whined. “I’m not tired at all!”

“Now, now, Scroogey,” His father, Fergus, replied. “listen to your mother. We need to wake up early tomorrow for work. So unless you want to fall asleep while polishing shoes, you should go to your bed right now.”

Scrooge had to admit there was a logic in this statement. So he reluctantly went to the bed where Mathilda was already lying. Downy put Hortense into the cradle and looked at her son with a soft smile.

“My little man… Earning his first money.” She said soon after. “I’m so proud of you.”

When all three of her children were lying in their beds, ready to sleep, Downy covered first Hortense and then Scrooge and Mathilda. Only when they relaxed in the weak light of the candles, she started to sing:

_Can you no hush your weepin'?_

_All the wee lambs are sleepin'._

_Birdies are nestlin', nestlin' taegether,_

_Dream Angus is hurtlin' through the heather._

Scrooge thought that he was definitely too old for this lullaby. His sisters, well, they were just babies. They needed to be sung a lullaby or else they will be cranky at the morning. He, on the other hand, was ten now, therefore he could sleep without it.

_Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,_

_Angus is here with dreams to sell._

_Hush now wee bairnie and sleep without fear,_

_For Angus will bring you a dream, my dear._

Scrooge yawned and smiled to his thoughts. This part was always reminding him of Angus McDuck who left to America. In fact, once (when he was younger and a little bit silly) the boy asked his dad if this was song about uncle Angus. Fergus laughed at this and told him that this song was much, much, older than his brother and therefore referred to different Angus.

When asked who was the Angus from the song then, Fergus McDuck said, he didn’t know, because it was an old lullaby.

_Sweet the lavrock sings at morn,_

_Heraldin' in a bright new dawn._

_Wee lambs, they coorie doon taegether_

_Alang with their ewies in the heather._

Maybe Scrooge wasn’t as strong as he thought. For when Downy got to that part, the softness of the pillow, the soothing sound of his mother’s voice and his own tiredness got to him and soon his eyelids closed.

_Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,_

_Angus is here with dreams to sell._

_Hush now wee bairnie and sleep without fear,_

_For Angus will bring you a dream, my dear._

Downy finished singing and looked with smile at her sleeping ducklings. Then she leaned over Hortense and planted a kiss on her forehead. Then she did the same to her elder children. Once she kissed her son, she smoothed his hair and said:

“I’m so proud of you… but, please, don’t grow up too soon, Scroogey.”

_Louisville, 1880_

It was a late night in the harbor. Scrooge did all the chores uncle Pothole gave him and he was directing himself towards the “Dilly Dollar”, where – in the boiler room – he had place to sleep… when his ears caught an odd sound. Someone was humming a soft melody and since they anchored “Dilly Dollar” in a place far from the taverns and loud sailors, the silence was making it easy to hear. Moreover – this melody somehow seemed familiar to the boy, but he wasn’t sure from where exactly.

Intrigued, the youngster slowly came aboard “Dilly Dollar” and soon located the source of oddly familiar melody. Since the humming came from uncle Angus’ steamboat and Ratchet was doing things in boiler room (and couldn’t be heard unless he was yelling), there were only two solutions as to who was singing: either someone broke in and stupidly decided to sing while robbing “Dilly Dollar”; or Pothole McDuck wasn’t sleeping.

And so Scrooge found his uncle staring at the night river and humming absent-mindly. The boy didn’t disturb him. He didn’t even come closer. He just leaned on the nearest wall and listened carefully to the melancholic, almost lulling melody. It felt relaxing and peaceful… And before Scrooge realized, he heard uncle Angus sing:

_Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,_

_Angus is here with dreams to sell._

_Hush now wee bairnie and sleep without fear,_

_For Angus will bring you a dream, my dear._

Once the boy caught the first line, something in his mind clicked. Yes, he knew this song. How could he forget? His mother was singing it almost every night in Scotland. Yet after couple of weeks in America, the melody was somehow lost to him.

Uncle Angus stopped singing and – still staring at the space in front of him – asked:

“Tell me, lad, do you miss the old country?”

Scrooge needed a moment to think about the answer.

“No, not really.” He said finally. “I miss my family, yes, but not Scotland.”

Angus looked back at him. His eyes were filled with a sadness Scrooge haven’t seen in his uncle before. The older man gave him a sign to come closer. The boy did it and soon they both were standing at the board and observing the view.

“You _will_ miss it, lad.” Pothole said and gave nephew a sad look. “Just stay here for a little bit longer and get to know this place better.” He went back to the view of the river.

For a moment he was silent, but then…

“You know,” He started, looking at Scrooge with a soft smile. “when I’m on my own, looking at this muddy river, I remember our lochs surrounded with green hills.” He saddened and looked at the night sky before him, adding with quiet voice: “I can almost see it with my own eyes.” He chuckled cheerlessly. “Sometimes there is also our family castle… Although, I’m pretty sure Castle McDuck was settled in different scenery…”

Suddenly Pothole McDuck got serious and started to sing again:

_Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,_

_Angus is here with dreams to sell…_

He abruptly stopped and chuckled once more.

“This is a funny song, actually.” His smiled weakened as he added: “Everyone knows that dreams are for free. It’s their realization that can cost a fortune.” He looked at Scrooge. “You’ve come here to get rich and make a name of yourself. The thing about America is that it can make people forget about their roots. Just keep that in mind, lad.”

Scrooge only nodded.

For a moment they were leaning on the board in silence. The night was warm and calm, and Scrooge felt strangely melancholic for some reason. He thought about home; about how he didn’t write to his family for a while and didn’t get any mail from them either. All of a sudden he wished to see them; to hug his sisters, to kiss his mother’s cheeks… But they were separated from him by an Atlantic Ocean. Besides, he didn’t have money for a ticket to Glasgow…

Yes, Glasgow. The busy, crowded Glasgow, full of life and old buildings. Sometimes Scrooge was dreaming, he was walking its streets with new clothes and people were looking at him with awe. But most importantly, he could breathe its air as a rich man. He promised himself, he will come back one day. How could he not come back to Glasgow? It was where his family was.

And then Scrooge understood. He didn’t miss Scotland, but he did miss Glasgow.

Before he knew it, uncle Angus was singing the lullaby again… and Scrooge was singing along.

_1885, Castle McDuck_

He finally found out who was the Angus in the song.

Once he got rid of Whiskervilles and paid off the dept, he spent rest of the night in the Castle McDuck. He had time to walk around his family’s domain and reflect on things. It wasn’t the first or second time, he was in this place; and it wasn’t the first time he encountered a ghost residing there. But this time he hasn’t seen just Sir Quackly, but whole generations of McDucks playing golf in afterlife and berating Scrooge for being a poor businessman (no pun intended). He still wasn’t sure if it was real or maybe just a dream, but it did make him think about past a lot.

The castle was dark, and cold, and smelled old wood. It was also filled with empty armors, tapestries and furniture from times far before his birth. Last time Scrooge was here as a child, however, even now, at age 21, he felt so small, surrounded with monumental, thick walls… but even more so surrounded by history.

Unlike United States of America which had only three, maybe four hundred years, Scotland was older, so, _so_ much older… It started with couple of Celtic tribes that managed to fight off the Roman Empire and unite into one nation. Through centuries they’ve built their nationality, their identity. The kilt became the traditional cloth of their highlanders. The bagpipes were their national instrument. They also had their own, completely separate language – Gaelic. And then, after the union with England via James the Sixth inheriting the throne, Scotland became a part of United Kingdom. And when the English Civil War ended; when Charles the Second was allowed to come back from his exile, everything went downhill for Scotland and its people.

Fergus McDuck told his son this tale – this tale of lost battle of Culloden, which ended with reforms meant to break Scottish spirit. They couldn’t wear kilts, play bagpipes or speak their language, anymore – not if they wanted to avoid being sent to prison. Some of them became slaves overseas, others were killed. Either way, they were punished for their national pride.

When Scrooge was walking down these dark halls, he felt that he was breathing the same air his ancestors were breathing. McDucks couldn’t wear kilts anymore (hell, Scrooge wasn’t even sure how their tartan looked like!) or didn’t know a world in Gaelic, but they never forgot that they were Scots – proud, fierce, hard working and thrifty. And their castle remembered all the trials and tribulations Scotland went through. And just like Scotland, clan McDucks had its ups and downs.

Now he – Scrooge McDuck – was their clan’s hope for the better future. He had to make the name of himself. Being in this place – the domain of his ancestors – he felt their eyes staring at him, waiting for his next move. He didn’t want to leave his family so soon… but at the same time he knew he needed to make a fortune and he couldn’t do it here.

Scrooge climbed up the tower and leaned on the blanks to watch the night sky. In the distance he could spot the graveyard, swamps and the path to Glasgow. The castle was surrounded by hills that seemed unfriendly to anybody, who wished to go through them. But there was something beautiful about this landscape. It reminded him of dry lands of Montana – vast, unfriendly, tamed only by the toughest. Scrooge remembered all those times spent under the sky of western States; and all those times when he was thinking of home. And before he knew it, he started to hum:

_Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,_

_Angus is here with dreams to sell…_

Sir Quackly materialized next to Scrooge and started to hum along.

_Hush now wee bairnie and sleep without fear,_

_For Angus will bring you a dream, my dear…_

They were standing like that for a while and then the ghost said:

“He was a pagan god, you know.” When the young man gave him a surprised look, Sir Quackly smiled to him and explained: “Dream Angus. He was a Celtic god of dreams, love, youth and beauty. A gentle spirit to whom birds were singing songs and wild dogs were obedient. According to legends, he comes at night and bestows dreams upon the sleeping.”

“Huh…” Scrooge replied and then asked: “How do _you_ know about pagan deities?”

“It’s boring here, in the castle. Ghosts are talking with each other.” Sir Quackly replied. Right after that he saddened and looked at the view before them. “You must leave and find your fortune… but maybe you could come here once or twice? Castle McDuck shouldn’t be left without heirs.”

“My parents and sisters will be residing here from now on.” Scrooge said.

“Yes, I know… but you shouldn’t be the last of Clan McDuck. Find yourself a nice lass and have children that will continue the line. Don’t let McDuck family name to disappear.”

Scrooge didn’t say anything. The ghost didn’t expected him to reply, either way, because he was staring at the sun slowly rising above the raw hills. The young man did the same and let his mind wander. Maybe he should find himself a wife… but only when he will make a fortune. When their financial situation will be stable, there will be time for starting a family.

Once the morning has broken; when Sir Quackly left Scrooge and Fergus McDuck came to meet with his son, the young man already decided to go.

_1897, Klondike_

“What are you humming, now?” Goldie O’Glit asked suddenly.

Scrooge stopped searching the pond for gold and blinked at her with surprise.

“I’m not humming anything. Go back to work.” He said, dismissingly.

But Goldie was having none of it.

“No, you were humming this song last night and you kept humming it since this morning.”

“That’s none of your business.” He turned his back on her and got back to gold rinsing. But after a moment of silence he said: “You probably won’t like it, anyway. It’s a Scottish lullaby, not one of your bar songs.”

“Oh, yeah? And how it goes exactly?” Goldie inquired further.

Scrooge stopped and looked at her. She smiled to him. For a moment he was going to ask: “And why do you want to know?” and just go back to rinsing… but there was something about the way she looked at him…

Maybe deep down he wanted to sing it to somebody. Maybe he was tired of loneliness and wanted to finally sing it to someone who would listen. After all, it was a beautiful lullaby and it was meant to be sung to others.

And so Scrooge McDuck sung _Dream Angus_ to the love of his life. She, on the other hand, was listening it with attention. When he finished, she was silent for a moment and then smiled again.

“Ever thought about the career in show business?” She asked suddenly.

“No, not really.” Scrooge replied. “I don’t imagine it very profitable.”

“What a shame. You would be fabulous.” She said and took the sieve. “Let’s get back to work.”

“Yes.” The prospector nodded and they both started to rinse again.

_1902, Castle McDuck_

He didn’t belong here anymore.

He came back to Scotland and everything – from the stares of people to his own feelings – was telling him that after so many adventures in far off lands, he was a stranger in his own homeland. His family was still acknowledging him, but their neighbors were seeing in him only a big shot who forgot his roots. And in some way, they were right.

Maybe the Scotland he was thinking of, was just something he made up, singing that silly song. Or maybe it wasn’t Scotland he missed all those years but his family. Either way, it wasn’t his home, not really, not after he was living outside of it for so long and made wilderness his home.

And so he and his sisters left Glasgow to settle in America. When he was looking at the Castle McDuck getting smaller and smaller in the distance, Scrooge decided that he will hum _Dream Angus_ for the last time.

_Today, Duckburg_

A lot happened in all those years. He has build a financial empire and achieved his all-time dream to become the richest duck in the world… but in the foolish hissy-fit he threw his family out of his life. For next two decades he was living alone in his mansion, until his nephews showed up and reminded him of what adventure feels like.

And ever since that fateful Christmas he had family again. It was such a refreshing feeling, having Huey, Dewey, Louie – and even Donald! – around. Scrooge even made some friends along the way. He knew that he wouldn’t managed to do that if he didn’t let his nephews into his life.

And so now he was spending the evening in Donald’s house, telling boys about his adventures, when his eldest nephew looked at the clock and suddenly said:

“Kids, it’s time to sleep.”

“But unca Donald!” Huey called. “We want to hear unca Scrooge’s stories!”

“We won’t be able to fall asleep!” Dewey added.

“Yes! We are too excited!” Louie finished.

Scrooge chuckled. These lads were too adorable. He liked them.

Donald shot him a cold glare.

“Look, what you’ve done! They have school tomorrow and now they won’t go to their beds because of your stupid stories.”

Donald, on the other hand, was a difficult duck to live with. But Scrooge kept reminding himself that this was Hortense’s boy. And just like his youngest sister, Donald proved to be a spunky young man. And well, he very much tried to raise those three kids right after his twin sister left them to his care.

A weird thought crossed Scrooge’s mind. He stood up from his armchair and said to Donald:

“Let me try to make them sleep, nephew.”

Donald snorted.

“Oh, yeah? And what will you do, old man?”

“I will sing them a lullaby.” Scrooge replied without a moment o hesitation.

Hortense’s son gave him a skeptical look, nevertheless, he said:

“Well then, be my guest.”

Soon Scrooge entered boy’s bedroom, where Huey, Dewey and Louie – now washed up and under covers – were waiting for him. The old duck sat at the stool prepared for him for this very occasion. He could feel Donald’s presence behind him. Hortense’s boy was probably standing in the doorframe and observing his old uncle with mild interest, preparing to mock him, if the billionaire fails to put Huey, Dewey and Louie to sleep.

Scrooge smiled to himself. Donald needed to hear this song too.

And so, without the further ado, Scrooge started to sing a lullaby he didn’t sing ever since he and his sisters left Scotland.

_Can you no hush your weepin'?_

_All the wee lambs are sleepin'._

He looked at the three young ones while they were looking at him with these eyes of wonder… and he couldn’t help but think of the times when he was their age and his mother was singing _Dream Angus_ to him.

_Birdies are nestlin', nestlin' taegether,_

_Dream Angus is hurtlin' through the heather._

He started to wonder if their mother, Della, was singing this song to them… and then he wondered if Hortense was singing this lullaby to her children. How much Donald, Della and boys were aware of their Scottish heritage?

_Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,_

_Angus is here with dreams to sell…_

And then a sad thought crossed his mind: Donald was raised by Grandma Duck, on the farm. And Della disappeared, when Huey, Dewey and Louie were just infants. Therefore, it was highly possible that all four of them were now hearing _Dream Angus_ for the first time in their lives.

_Hush now wee bairnie and sleep without fear,_

_For Angus will bring you a dream, my dear._

_You shouldn’t be the last of McDuck clan. Find yourself a nice lass and have children that will continue the line. Don’t let McDuck family name to disappear…_ – Sir Quackly’s words echoed in Scrooge’s memory. At this point of his life, Donald was the closest thing to an offspring Scrooge had. And these three tykes looking at him with sleepy eyes, were the closest thing to a grandchildren he would ever have.

_Sweet the lavrock sings at morn,_

_Heraldin' in a bright new dawn…_

He smiled to them lightly and tenderly petted their heads. And then Scrooge thought about what his uncle Pothole once told him: that when he was looking at the muddy water of Ohio river, he could see Castle McDuck surrounded by hills.

_Wee lambs, they coorie doon taegether_

_Alang with their ewies in the heather._

At this very moment, singing this old song to Huey, Dewey and Louie, Scrooge was thinking about his old castle too: about the history of hundreds generations of McDuck’s scattered in these stony walls; about a friendly ghost of Sir Quackly who helped him defeat Whiskervilles twice; and about that time when Scrooge left both the ghost and the castle, because he lost the connection with his homeland.

_Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,_

_Angus is here with dreams to sell…_

Then Scrooge thought about all those times when he was singing this lullaby – consciously and not-so consciously – and that one moment when he sung it to Goldie. And he remembered what was the other thing Sir Quackly told him that day, in 1885: that Dream Angus was a Celtic god of love and youth.

And Scrooge knew that he left his love in Klondike and spent his youth, making money. He felt so old, so very, _very_ old… He also felt tears coming into his eyes.

_Hush now wee bairnie and sleep without fear,_

_For Angus will bring you a dream, my dear._

With cracking voice, Scrooge finished singing and felt like crying – crying over the fact that he was the last of Clan McDuck; that he never settled with Goldie; that he had lost touch with his homeland long time ago; and that Donald and boys probably didn’t know their Scottish heritage.

Huey, Dewey and Louie either didn’t notice their uncle’s odd mood, or pretended to do so, because they seemed fast asleep. Scrooge smiled and patted their heads for the last time, before he stood up from the stool and, carefully to not wake boys up, he left the room. He met with Donald on the corridor, leaning on the wall, and for a moment the two ducks were staring at each other.

“Sounds like you to sing about selling dreams.” Donald said with a wry smile, but there was something in his eyes that wasn’t exactly on board with mockery of his greedy uncle.

Scrooge smiled too and replied:

“Everyone knows that dreams are for free. It’s their realization that can cost a fortune. The thing about America is that it can make people forget about their roots. ” He gave Donald a sad look and then turned back at the door of boy’s bedroom, before he went back to his nephew. “One day I will show you Scotland.”

Donald’s smile changed into more friendly one as he said:

“We’ll get there somewhere along the way, old man.”

“I suppose you’re right, nephew.”

Scrooge and Donald directed towards the stairs to let boys sleep peacefully. When they started to go down, Scrooge heard Donald hum a familiar melody. The old duck didn’t know if his nephew was doing that consciously or not, but it made him smile.


End file.
